Esprit d'Elle
by Treesamphetamine
Summary: The thrilling conclusion of Esprit D'Elle.
1. Chapter 1

Esprit d'Elle  
  
The room was crowded, but I was all alone. No one would talk to me. I was being ignored, and I didn't like it. I wouldn't stand for it.   
  
  
  
I stood up for the sofa and walked over to the beautiful, black grand piano. It was a  
  
favorite of mine. Always had been since my husband and I had moved into our home. I placed my long fingers over the hard, ivory keys and played a chord. Confident in my ability to play, I opened the music book to one of my favorite songs. I was very fond of Beethoven's 5 Symphony.   
  
  
  
The people around me stepped back in surprise. I was ignored, as you may or may not remember. I was ignored in my own home.   
  
  
  
I didn't look at anyone as I played. I was too busy concentrating on the music. It relaxed me in a way real life didn't. I was at peace for one once in my life.  
  
  
  
The music ended, much to my disappointment. If only the music could go on and on. I looked up only to see Harry with Ginny hanging on his arm talking to Ron and a few others.   
  
  
  
How dare she! How dare Ginny come into our happy life and think that she can be  
  
Harry's! He's my husband and she's knows that. I loath that woman with every fiber of my being. I would take care of her.  
  
  
  
I left the piano, not that anyone cared. I grabbed a drink from the buffet table. It was a glass of red wine, sure to stain Ginny's yellow gown. I walked over to her and spilled the wine down the front of her dress. It stained immediately.  
  
  
  
Ginny gasped with terror. Ron and Harry watched, bewildered. I turned around and left the crowded room before I did anything drastic.  
  
  
  
I walked to the door, out onto the porch. The summer breeze struck me as sat down on the step, but skirt fanned out along my slender legs. I loved my gown, yet cursed it. It was heavy. And in the summer it was an inferno contraption. The skirt was full, poofed out by many petticoats. The pattern on it was my favorite feature. The deep blue, with white swirls made the skirt. The sleeves were long and poofed out, in white, as was the shirt. My shoes were black boots, laced up.   
  
  
  
My children were out playing. Anna and Michael were their names. Anna was the eldest by 3 years. She was 11, soon to receive her letter to Hogwarts. Harry and I had decided to send them to Hogwarts, though we live in the southern part of the U.S. I suppose I should describe were we live. It's a plantation home, rich with history. I should know, but we'll get into that later. The home used to belong to wealthy slave owners. Most of the decorations in it are original. That's why I fell in love with this house ten years ago. It was the perfect place for us to raise our first children whom I was pregnant with at the time. It was also perfect to spend our millions on. Harry and I were both successful, each rich by doing our on things. Harry in his broomstick company, I in my writing and spell-making.  
  
  
  
I curse this house. I curse my love of this house. I wish we had never bought it. But, even I wish too much. It'll never get me anywhere.  
  
  
  
There's Lavender. Lavender Weasley with her youngest daughter, born just a few  
  
months ago, named Hermione, after myself. I'll never understand why she did this, but she did. The other Weasley children run by now, playing among Anna and Michael. I long to talk with Lavender, but as I said before, I am being ignored.  
  
  
  
I think it's okay for me to return to the party which Ginny decided to have for Harry  
  
because he's been depressed lately.   
  
  
  
When I return to the hall, I find Oliver Wood talking to Harry.  
  
  
  
"I'm so sorry about---"  
  
  
  
"Thank you."  
  
  
  
"What happened?"   
  
  
  
"I don't care to talk about it." Harry nodded to Oliver and walked away.   
  
  
  
"You can't ask him about," Ron said, walking over.  
  
  
  
"Why not?" Oliver asked.  
  
  
  
"He won't talk about. It hurts too much."  
  
  
  
"They were close."  
  
  
  
"Yes, he was crushed when it happened."  
  
  
  
"Poor man," Oliver said, shaking his head. "So young, too. What a shame. How did it happen, anyway?"  
  
  
  
"Your guess is as good as mine," Ron said honestly.  
  
  
  
"I would've thought he would've told you."  
  
  
  
"So did I."  
  
  
  
I turned back out of the hall, not wanting to hear more. It hurt. I walked over to the parlor, my skirts swishing. The parlor was hardly visited by Harry or I. Anna and Michael spent their time studying there, but no more than that. They sensed tension in the air.   
  
  
  
The room was decorated with green sofas, with antique wood edges. The paneling on the walls was a French style popular at the time the house was built. The fireplace was beautiful, with the marble mantel. It was easily one of my favorite rooms, which is why I never went there.   
  
  
  
The pictures by the fireplace showed happy times, when we were all together. Those times didn't exist anymore. Harry kept to his work now more than ever since it happened. Anna and Michael were watched by a sitter, or Ginny. She had been making her appearance more and more and I didn't like it.  
  
  
  
Ginny and I were the best of friends. She was the girl I could tell anything to. She told me all her secrets too. Especially her crush on Harry. I was very aware of that. She wasn't the only one, though. I myself adored him, but would never say anything to him or her. Then Harry told me how he felt. That he liked me a lot and that he wanted me to be his girlfriend. He asked me if I would. Of course I would! Ginny found out. She wasn't happy, but pretended to support it. She was jealous, I knew. I knew all to well.  
  
  
  
Two years after school had ended for us, Harry and I got married. Ginny hated me after that. She had been sure that we would break up, leaving room for her. But when she found out that I was pregnant with Anna, she was loathed me. I was having Harry Potter's child, and that made me enemy number one.  
  
  
  
I heard something. Ginny. Ginny talking to Harry, obviously begging him for something.  
  
  
  
"Harry, I need to go change my dress."  
  
  
  
"Why don't you just use magic to fix the stain?"  
  
  
  
"I can't."  
  
  
  
"Why not?"  
  
  
  
"I don't have my wand."  
  
  
  
"You can change your dress, but leave Hermione's dresses and clothes alone," he said, sternly. If there was one thing he was picking about was who touched my things. He knew Ginny would just love to get her hands on them. I knew that. I've known that for years now.  
  
  
  
Not that they would fit her. My dresses were all custom made to fit by body alone. Ginny and I aren't even the same size. She shorter than I am by four inches. She barely has a chest, and those dresses were made to fit a woman with a chest. And believe me, I've got one. Those dresses were made to fit a curvy figured woman, which Ginny is not. She's a board. Even from chest to waist to hips. She's been jealous of me since she realized that she wasn't going to get anything like that like I have.  
  
  
  
"Fine," I heard Ginny say and she stomped off.  
  
  
  
I shook my head. 


	2. Chapter 2

I found Harry sitting on the porch, alone. I sat down beside him. I watched him, as I always did when I was near him. He was so beautiful, with his untidy raven hair and those emerald green eyes, worth more to me than life itself. I cringed. Maybe not. I can't use that saying. He meant more to me than....than...than all the knowledge on heaven or earth. There, much better.  
  
  
  
He used to be so vibrant. So alive. When he smiled, his whole face lit up and glowed. He doesn't smile anymore. He just mopes there, depressed. He often sits out on the porch steps, as if waiting for someone to come home. I knew who he was waiting for. If only....  
  
  
  
Sitting beside him, I think of the times when we were happy. The four of us used to take picnics near the lake. I remember one time clearly. I shoved Harry into the lake after he splashed me. Then Anna jumped in after him. He caught her and let her go so she could swim around. Michael jumped in after her. I sat on the rock near the edge. Harry swam over and asked me to come in.  
  
  
  
"No, Harry, I have a meeting later. I don't need to smell like lake for it."  
  
  
  
He wouldn't give up, though. "Come on. Just a little dip."  
  
  
  
I refused and he pulled me in. I screamed and the children laughed. That day was the first time Harry had kissed me in front of Anna and Michael. And it wasn't a little kiss either. It was the kind of kisses he gave me when we were young and in Hogwarts.   
  
  
  
"Dad, I've been looking for you all over," Anna said, coming out of the house.  
  
  
  
"What's wrong?" Harry asked.  
  
  
  
"Nothing. I just wanted to find you. Are you thinking about Mom?" Anna was so innocent. She had no idea what had happened.  
  
  
  
"Yeah, pumpkin. I'm thinking about Mom." He put his head on his hands and looked out into space.  
  
  
  
"You need to...." She was going to say something, but changed her mind. She knew that it was best if she let it alone. "I'm going back in."  
  
  
  
Harry never responded.  
  
***************  
  
I curse this house. I curse it all. I wish that I had never seen it. I wish that we had never decided to live here. I wish we were all at home in London. Never here. Never ever.   
  
  
  
But wishes don't get us anywhere. I have wished too many times to think of them coming true. They never do.  
  
  
  
If we had never moved here, we would be happy. We would all be together. We'd never have to hear Michael cry at night. I hear his tears at night when he thinks all are asleep. I walk into his room and watch him cry, my heart filling with pain because I know that I can't stop him. We would never have to fear that Anna would never talk again. She didn't talk much now. She was so smart, but she didn't talk much. She spoke, but she was more quiet than any other girl I'd ever met. We wouldn't have to see Harry break down and sob. We wouldn't need to see him, a grown man, broken and hurt. I wanted to see his smile. I wanted to see him smile because he was happy.   
  
  
  
And you know what? Because of the past, because of my foolishness, and because of this house, we live in despair. And you know what else?   
  
  
  
I'm dead. 


	3. Chapter 3

Foolishness. That's my problem. I let my curiousity get the better of me and look what I got for it!  
  
  
  
When we moved into the house I was struck with curiosity about the past. I wanted to know what the owners had been like. I wanted to know how to decorate the house so that it would look as much like it did in the 1800s. Of course, I never said I thing about it to Harry. We had a family, after all.  
  
  
  
One year ago, when Anna was ten and Michael was seven, I told Harry about my dream of seeing the past of our home. He didn't like the idea, but he knew that he couldn't stop me from going, so he relented. I got my hands on a time turner.  
  
  
  
The day I left, I made Harry promise not to tell the children where I was going. They were at school at the time. He took my hand in his and told me to be careful. I laughed and promised I would. But I couldn't keep that promise to him.   
  
  
  
I magicked myself the beautiful dress that I wear right now. That I'm doomed to where for the rest of my existence.  
  
  
  
I twisted the time turner back and back and back. My wrist became swore with the  
  
movements. Until finally, I disappeared from his view and appeared in the Southern states in 1863. It was hot and dry. The dust swirled around me as carriages pulled by horses ran to and fro around my home.  
  
  
  
I saw a man beating a pregnant black woman and ran to push him away from her. I had forgotten that this was forbidden. The man shoved me away and I hit the dirt hard. I got up, though. I ran back to him and tried to pull him away from the woman. Thank goodness Harry thought it best if I at least learn to lift weights. I was able to pull him away. I dropped onto my knees and held myself above the woman, shielding her from the man.  
  
  
  
I could feel him trying to pull me off of her, but I made myself heavier than I truly am and I gripped the ground hard. The man hit me and smacked me. The blood was drenching my dress and was rolling down my back. I heard some voices and yelling and sound of someone falling to the ground before I was fully unconscious.  
  
*******  
  
I awoke to an old African American woman pressing a wet cloth to my forehead. My breath was heavy and I felt as though I was losing life.   
  
  
  
"Miss," the old woman said kindly, "are you feeling all right?"  
  
  
  
I didn't say anything. I couldn't say anything. It hurt to much.  
  
  
  
"Miss, we thank you saving my granddaughter's life and the life of her baby." The  
  
pregnant woman stepped forward, nodding her thanks.  
  
  
  
A man came forward and pulled the old woman back. "Is she gonna live?"  
  
  
  
"I don' know, Solomon. I don't know. It don't look like she will," the old woman said  
  
gravely. "If she makes it through the night she probably will."  
  
  
  
But I didn't.  
  
***********  
  
I died that night, so long ago, from my wounds. I lost too much blood and in this time they didn't know of modern medicine.  
  
  
  
I have lived in this house for so long. I died here and shall remain here for the rest of my existence. Over one hundred and fifty years. Don't ask me how. I don't know. I don't know what happened while I was alive. All I know is that was the little bit of time that I wasn't here. I wasn't here for that time because I was alive. It's hard to explain, so don't ask me about it.  
  
  
  
Just because Harry and I had perfect lives didn't mean we weren't tormented by Lord Voldemort. In fact, Harry and I thought we had gotten him. But I know better. Harry doesn't know. I don't think he does.  
  
  
  
We were terrorized by him before we were married so we fled to America. Voldemort left the U.S. alone mostly. He wanted control of Europe before he bothered with the rest of the world.   
  
  
  
There are rumors that he's coming back to kill Harry, Anna, and Michael. I can only pray that those are false. 


	4. Chapter 4

My morning ritual is the same every morning. I wake up and immediately rush to the children's rooms to make sure they were okay. Though if something were truly wrong I couldn't do much being that I was, in fact, dead. But I prefer to think of it as the principle of the thing.  
  
  
  
After checking on Michael and Anna, I proceded to my husband's room. It was there that I would sit upon the bed and just watch him. He was always asleep at the time so I saw him at his most peaceful moments. Watching him lie there reminded me of all the good times we had.  
  
  
  
One morning, I was feeling a little upset at Harry for a rather embarrassing little prank he played on me the night before. I went outside to the shed and grab the hose while he was still sleeping. I returned to the master bedroom and stuck the hose to the faucet. From there I turned on the cold water and returned to where my darling lay sleeping peacefully. I clasped my hand around the nozzle and sprayed the freezing water all over him and our bed. He screamed and leaped out of bed, fumbling for his wand in his boxer shorts. I could only laugh at the sight. He walked over to me, took the hose gently from my hand, and, smiling sweetly, pulled at the neck of my nightgown. He gently stuck the nozzle of the hose down there and sprayed me. I screamed and pushed him away. I pushed him down and takled him. He, being the stronger, heavier male, easily turned me over so that he was on top. He began to tickle me severely. I tried to push him off me. He kissed me softly and told me he loved me.  
  
  
  
That was before we moved here to the U.S. People were upset when we left Britain.  
  
They thought we were running away from Voldemort. We were advised to leave and come to the U.S. Dumbledore thought it would be safer for us there. We took his advice. Harry wanted to stay and defeat Voldemort there on British soil. He wanted to so much to destroy him there. But, I was afraid. I knew that I could not stop him from going but I begged him not to. In the end, for my safety, he said that he would take me to the U.S. Before we left, we met once more and a huge battle commenced. We thought we had destroyed him. Voldemort came back with more followers. Dumbledore urged us to leave the battle for Voldemort was going to kill us both. Harry did the only thing he could do: he took me and we left. We had heard that Voldemort was subdued soon after, though we never returned home. We had become attached to the home.   
  
  
  
Harry wasn't in his room when I checked this morning. He was in the kitchen, hurriedly making lunches for the kids. Michael and Anna came bounding down the steps and sat down at the table. They began to eat their pancakes.  
  
  
  
I leaned up against the counter to watch this as I do every morning and have done so ever since I could remember. Even when I was alive.   
  
Harry loaded the sandwiches, chips, and soda cans into their proper lunch boxes and handed one to Anna and the other to Michael. They waved good bye to their father and ran to the bus which was waiting for them.  
  
  
  
Harry watched and then grabbed his briefcase. He strode to the car and got in. Within minutes he was gone. 


	5. Chapter 5

You have no idea how boring it is to be a ghost. I know what you're all thinking that it's so cool because you drift through walls and spy on people. You can find all the most interesting gossip. Yeah, that's true, but who am I going to tell it to? Huh? My point exactly.  
  
  
  
I know you're thinking that I should tell it to another ghost. It's strange to think, but they're aren't really any other ghosts here. They were all allowed to go to the next life. I, on the other hand, have to stay here until such a time that the American Spiritual Ministry sees fits, which could be a long time, considering they don't like me much. I was liked and respected in England. Apparently, going back in time to see the history of such a beautiful house is against the code of something-or-other and therefore I broke the rules, which damned me to this house for who knows how long. I mean, I like being here to see my children grow up, but you never really get used to not being seen.  
  
  
  
Where were we? Ah yes, boredom. You can only walk through walls so many times until it gets boring. And you can only misplace Ginny's belongings to many times. Eventually it gets old. Though, it was amusing to see Ginny's face as her favorite red Stiletto was flushed down the toilet.....  
  
  
  
I got in trouble for that one. "Eternal damnation to one's home" they called it. I call it house arrest. They like this "damnation" word. They use it so much. I've heard that only really bad ghosts are damned. The Ministry just likes to call it that to scare us.  
  
  
  
I flop onto the armchair. There's not much to do around here. How long ago was it that I sorted Harry's sock drawer? What was it last week? He's a little untidy, so I just go in there and organize it again. He won't notice...I think he's gotten used to it. Well, gotten used to the fact that somehow things get done, as if....As if by magic! Ha ha. He used to think it was Ginny who was doing this things for him. Used to...  
  
  
  
I opened the sock drawer and pulled all the socks out. I started by matching up the pairs the progressed to color organizing them. Last time I had done it by style and then color. This time I will do it by color then style.  
  
  
  
As I was placing the gym socks into their place I heard a loud noise on the door. Surely it couldn't be time for Harry to be home. Time doesn't pass that quickly while sorting socks.  
  
  
  
I tossed the rest of the socks back into the drawer. I couldn't just leave them there. I heard a crunch and a crack. The sound of breaking wood. My heart pounded. The sound of the front door being smashed to pieces caused my blood to run cold.  
  
  
  
I was a ghost, yes, but that didn't stop the natural instinct of fear to arise. I lifted up my skirts and ran to the door. Wood chips were splattered everywhere. A hand reached in to my home and I screamed. I rushed forward to push the hand back. Not that it did much. I was too terrified to think clearly.  
  
  
  
They broke the door down. Two of them were wearing black suits with black robes. A redhead was following them. It was Ron. Thank goodness.  
  
  
  
They looked grave. Suddenly, I knew something bad had happened. I mean, yes,  
  
something bad would have to be going on for two strange men to break the door to my home down and for one of my best friends to be accompanying them.  
  
  
  
"Are you sure?" Ron was asking.  
  
  
  
"Positive, Mr. Weasley," the first man said. He appeared to have a higher rank than the other, but it was hard to tell.  
  
  
  
"I don't understand, though. How will breaking into his house help?"   
  
  
  
Oh, Ron....  
  
  
  
"Well," said the second man, "we wouldn't have to have down this if someone had  
  
answered the door. And under the circumstances, I don't think anyone's home. Unless his wife is."  
  
  
  
"Mr. Bernard," Ron began, addressing the second man, "Harry's wife past away some time ago."  
  
  
  
"Well, that takes care of that."  
  
  
  
"Can you think of any reason for Lord Voldemort to want to kidnap Mr. Potter?" said the first man, who for the sake of the readers, we will tell his name, which is Mr. Jonstone.  
  
  
  
"Well, let me think," Ron said sarcastically, pretending to think. "Well, it IS Harry's fault that Voldemort lost all his powers. And it is Harry's fault that Voldemort couldn't come back that second time. And it is also Harry's fault that Tom Riddle couldn't kill al the Muggleborns in Hogwarts. Not to mention every other thing that Harry has done to tick him off. Sounds like a good enough reason to me!"  
  
  
  
I slid up against the wall. Harry. My Harry. My love. Kidnaped? He was kidnaped.  
  
My...Harry...Harry...Harry..Harry..Harry. Harry. Harry. Harry. My Harry. My Harry. My Harry. My--  
  
  
  
"Where's Harry?!"  
  
  
  
That damn little redhead couldn't let alone, could she? She probably thinks now that she deserves to be here. Well, she doesn't. I ought to---  
  
  
  
"Ma'am, please calm down," Mr. Bernard told the small woman.   
  
  
  
Ginny seemed a little put out at being called 'ma'am.' Serves her right.   
  
  
  
"But, Anna and Michael are gone!"  
  
  
  
My eyes widened. I slumped to the floor. My children..... 


	6. Chapter 6

Now, I'm not one to break the rules, but this is serious. Very serious. Nobody kidnaps my husband and children and gets away with it! Hmph!  
  
  
  
I march right out of that house and suddenly stop. I was missing vital information that was being spoken of at that very moment! I turn back around and march right back into the house.  
  
  
  
"....You think that Voldemort could just take Harry out of his office without anyone seeing?" Ron was asking.  
  
  
  
"Yes."  
  
  
  
"Ah."  
  
  
  
"Now, if you don't have anymore questions..." Mr. Bernard says.  
  
  
  
"Hey, uh, wait. I got another question!"  
  
  
  
"Now what?"  
  
  
  
"Well, why would Voldemort take both Harry AND his children?"  
  
  
  
"That's what we're trying to figure out, Mr. Weasley."  
  
  
  
"Oh, all right then."  
  
  
  
"Any more questions?"  
  
  
  
"Nope."  
  
  
  
"Good."  
  
  
  
"No, uh, wait! I got another question!"  
  
  
  
"Argh. What now?"  
  
  
  
"Have you ever done this before?"  
  
  
  
"Yes, I am an Auror."  
  
  
  
"Because I don't think you're being very professional."  
  
  
  
Mr. Bernard glared.  
  
  
  
Ron looked innocent.  
  
  
  
"Stop it, Ron. Leave the man alone so he can go find Harry."  
  
  
  
"Shut up, Ginny."  
  
  
  
Obviously, this wasn't going to be that much useful. Ron and Ginny were probably going to start bickering and that would just be immature.   
  
  
  
So, now, I march right out of the house, knowing I'm breaking the 'damnation to one's home' rule, but I really don't care right about know. Who does?  
  
  
  
I go to the one place I know where I can get help: The Leaky Cauldron.  
  
***********  
  
I don't care to go back to England now. I'm dead and now everyone's going to laugh at me. But, that's not important right now. I need help. And the only people who can help me are there.  
  
  
  
I use my amazing 'poof' ghost powers to get there. Soon enough I am standing outside a run-down tavern. I walk in.   
  
  
  
I see all sorts of people. People I knew once. People who are alive. They can't see me. That's not my fault. Blame those blasted Americans and they're demonic ways. But, being dead and a ghost myself, I can see the ghosts who are there. I know these people too. My friends from before the battles and the killings. I see one other who is not my friend. I go up and sit beside him at the bar.  
  
  
  
"Hullo," I say.  
  
  
  
"What do you want?" he says.   
  
  
  
This sounds like one of those responses that you say without thinking. I take it as one.  
  
  
  
"I need to talk to you," I say.  
  
  
  
He looks up from staring down. "Granger?"  
  
  
  
I nod. "Yes."  
  
  
  
"What happened to you?" he says scornfully.  
  
  
  
"I died," I say.  
  
  
  
"Yeah, no shit. But how?"  
  
  
  
"I was murdered," I say lightly. No need to go into details.  
  
  
  
He smiles. For once. Shocking really. "Good. Who did you in?"  
  
  
  
"A slave driver."  
  
  
  
He looks puzzled.  
  
  
  
"I went back in time."  
  
  
  
"Ah," he says. Like that explains it.  
  
  
  
"No need to ask what happened to you," I say, knowing this will tick him off completely.   
  
  
  
"You think you know what happened so well, don't you, you little Mudblood? Course you know! You know everything!" He slams his fists on the counter and stomps out of the Leaky Cauldron like the spoiled brat he is.  
  
  
  
"Malfoy," I say, "stop being such a spoiled brat."  
  
  
  
"No," he says, leaning against the wall. He glares at the pavement.  
  
  
  
"Malfoy, I need your help."  
  
  
  
"You?" he says with disbelief. "You need my help. Granger, what happened to your sense when you died?"  
  
  
  
I take a deep breath, fighting tears. "Malfoy, Harry is in danger. Voldemort took him. He's going to do something awful to him."  
  
  
  
"So? This is my problem how..?"  
  
  
  
"My children. Voldemort took my children too. Anna and Michael. My babies. He took them."   
  
  
  
He looks up at me. Children. For some unknown reason, he has always had a softspot for children. He was the one who had insisted that Voldemort leave children alone. And, surprisingly, for a little while, he did. Not anymore, I guess.  
  
  
  
Malfoy takes a deep breath, then sighs. He's thinking. Hard too. He had never liked me but had met my children once, without knowing they were mine and Harry's. He had liked them. Very fond of them would be the correct thing to say.  
  
  
  
He walks over to me. "What do I need to know?"  
  
  
  
I smile. "Thank you," I whisper, almost inaudibly.  
  
  
  
He hears me. 


	7. Chapter 7

"You're sure we're going the right way?" I ask for about the tenth time.  
  
  
  
"Yes," he replies with the same amount of annoyance in his voice as in the other nine times.  
  
  
  
We're walking through a swamp. A hot, muggy swamp that is full of insects and bacteria that can't even see me. Not that I am complaining or anything.   
  
  
  
I pick up my ghostly skirts so they do not become soaked with swampy water. It's one of those habits that you just don't drop when you die.  
  
  
  
Malfoy trudges on. You have to admire the way he pretends nothing bothers him. Key word being 'pretends.'  
  
  
  
You know, silence is probably one of the most awkward situations, especially when you are with one of your many archenemies that you have just begged to help you save the life of your family.   
  
  
  
I can't keep my mouth shut. I've never been very good at it, anyway.  
  
  
  
"Malfoy, do you think we ever could have been friends? I mean, if Gryffindor and Slytherin didn't matter? And if blood types didn't matter either?" I ask, trying to make small-talk. Of course, as soon as I said this, I realize what a big mistake it is, seeing as that this topic is not as safe as the weather.  
  
  
  
"Do you really want my opinion, Granger?" he says.  
  
  
  
"Yes."  
  
  
  
He stops and looks down on me. His eyes look me over and I shift uncomfortably.   
  
  
  
"Yes."  
  
  
  
"Yes?"  
  
  
  
"Mmmhmm."  
  
  
  
"How do you figure?" I ask nosily.  
  
  
  
"You're clever," he says and begins walking forward, leaving me behind. I follow.  
  
  
  
"That's it? You're not going to say I'm gorgeous?" I ask, feigning a hurtful look.  
  
  
  
"Granger, you're no looker, I can tell you that," he says, cringing as he steps into the dirty, brown water.  
  
  
  
Splat!  
  
  
  
"GRANGER!"  
  
  
  
"You got what you deserved."  
  
  
  
"That was gross!"  
  
  
  
"I know..."  
  
  
  
He glares at me and looks sideways.   
  
  
  
I scream as he splashes me with water. I may be dead, but even the dead can feel some things.  
  
  
  
"You're dead, Malfoy!"  
  
  
  
"Too late!"  
  
  
  
I begin to chase after him. Correction, I begin to splosh after him. He splashes more water at me and then swims off. I swim after him.   
  
  
  
As I grab his coat I realize what I am doing. I realize that I am sort of having fun with Malfoy when I should be rescuing my husband and children. I stop and stand up straight.   
  
  
  
Malfoy sees my facial expression. His smile fades.  
  
  
  
"We'd better be going," he says.  
  
  
  
"Yes."  
  
  
  
We trudge on. I see Malfoy look at me. I glance at him. He looks away.  
  
  
  
An hour later we approach a gate in front of a very large castle.   
  
  
  
It is large, yes, like Hogwarts. It is probably even larger than Hogwarts, with many towers and ivy growing up the walls.   
  
  
  
Chills go up my spine.  
  
  
  
This castle does not have the warmth of Hogwarts.  
  
  
  
"Is this it?" I ask.  
  
  
  
He nods. "Oh yes. Can't you feel the evil aura?"  
  
  
  
I nod.  
  
  
  
He walks forward, through the gate. I follow him, feeling frightened.   
  
  
  
The castle is run-down. The garden on the sides of the path is overgrown. Dead leaves cover everything.   
  
  
  
We reach the large, wooden door. It hasan inscription written across it. Something in Latin. Since I do not know Latin, I do not know what it means. But, Malfoy knows and it sends chills up his spine. He looks at me.  
  
  
  
We walk forward.  
  
We creep past a guard. And then another guard. And another. Apparently Voldemort is very paranoid. I say so to Malfoy.   
  
  
  
"He was always paranoid. Ever since Potter reduced him to a bodyless spirit, he's been a tad on the paranoid side. I guess you can't blame him. If a little infant of a boy who grows into a scrawny little nerd can reduce you to nothing I suppose you have the right to be paranoid."  
  
  
  
"That's my husband you're talking about," I snap.  
  
  
  
"You can't mean Voldemort, can you?"  
  
  
  
"No, Harry."  
  
  
  
"Figures."  
  
  
  
"What figures?"  
  
  
  
"That you would go for the side of good. The Dark side rules, Granger darling. Wake up and realize it already."  
  
  
  
"Think about where it got you."  
  
  
  
"So? It was bound to happen anyway."  
  
  
  
"No wonder you were in Slytherin. You're terribly pessimistic."  
  
  
  
"Ah, yes, that is the one trait of Slytherin that the Sorting Hat forgot to mention. Just like it forgot to mention that Gryffindors are always goody-two shoes, and Ravenclaws are nerds, and Hufflepuffs are dorks."  
  
  
  
"That's not very nice."  
  
  
  
"That's why I said it."  
  
  
  
"You're impossible."  
  
  
  
"Thank you."  
  
  
  
"Your welcome."  
  
  
  
"Wait–Where are we?"  
  
  
  
"You don't know where we are?"  
  
  
  
"Would I have asked if I knew?"  
  
  
  
"Yes."  
  
  
  
"Shut up, Granger."  
  
  
  
"It's Potter."  
  
  
  
"What?"  
  
  
  
"I'm not 'Granger' anymore. It's 'Potter.' It has been for a while."  
  
  
  
"Great time to lecture me, Potger. Great time."  
  
  
  
"Why are the lights out?"  
  
  
  
"You just noticed that?"  
  
  
  
"Yes..."  
  
  
  
"You're aggravating me."  
  
  
  
"The feeling is mutual."  
  
********************************************* 


	8. Chapter 8

It would be nice to say that Malfoy and I had found Harry, Anna, and Michael. It would also be very nice to say that we are now back at our home and that everyone is safe and happy, including myself.  
  
  
  
It would also be nice to say that I am now alive and that I believe Harry and I created our third child last night.   
  
  
  
Now, which of these statements are true?  
  
  
  
...  
  
  
  
Ah, yes, the first one. You all are rather brilliant, you know. In any case, Malfoy and I managed to find them. They were locked in a cell at the bottom of the castle. Which, I must admit, was a shame since we looked up instead. You can never be too sure what the Dark Lord is going to do, so we thought we might be on top of things by doing it that way. What's important is that we found them. Draco and I used our amazing, ghostly powers to destroy Voldemort's minions. I can't say that we killed the Big-Cheese himself, but I CAN say that he'll think twice about messing with MY family.  
  
  
  
The second statement could almost be true. Harry, Michael, and Anna are home and safe. They're happy too. Harry's still not quite sure who or what intervened to save his children's lives and his own.  
  
  
  
I'm still not alive, which sort of puts a dart in my happiness. But, I am ecstatic that the loves of my life and death are alive.   
  
  
  
I still sit out on the porch, as I'm doing right now, contemplating death. Myrtle, of course, had a point: Death is really sucky. To put it bluntly of course.  
  
  
  
Draco materializes next to the my grave. He is reading the inscription. He shakes his head, dematerializing. He appears beside me two seconds later.  
  
  
  
"Nice headstone," he comments dryly.  
  
  
  
"Harry picked it out," I mumble.  
  
  
  
He opens his mouth to say something, pausing, then presses on. "Granger, er, Hermione, you deserve better than this."  
  
  
  
I look up into his eyes, no longer shallow but deep, full of pain and experience. The choke back tears. "Thank you," I say.  
  
  
  
It's not fair for one man to have caused all this pain, this hurt. The fear that he instilled in us. The grief he caused with his cruel way of thought. How was this supposed to improve the world? Where did all this hate in his black heart come from? Was he never loved? I don't know the man that he was when he was a man, but his own existence mut have been unspeakably dreadful for him to feel the need to cause the pain and anguish that plagued the world when he was at the height of power.   
  
  
  
I wipe the tears from my ghostly face with transparent fingers. Draco, for once in his life, shows respect and leaves me be. He is no where in sight.  
  
  
  
The screen door behind me swings open. It's Harry; I can hear his worn leather shoes that I bought him for his birthday so many years ago. He could never part with them, he told the headstone by the tree.   
  
  
  
"Hermione," he breathes.  
  
  
  
I wish he wouldn't do this, saying my name like that. There is so much passion and longing in it that I can't remain in the room with him. It breaks my heart and mind.  
  
  
  
"Hermione," he says, louder this time, as though calling for me.  
  
  
  
My eyes well up once more. I can't stay here with him. I walk towards him to get to the door. The look on his face stops me before I can make it halfway.  
  
  
  
His face is red and moist; He's crying. I stand there dumbstruck, staring at him.  
  
  
  
"Hermione," he says with finality. "It's you."  
  
  
  
My eyebrows rise up my hairline.  
  
  
  
He takes a step closer. And another. And another, until he wraps his arms around me and I feel his heavy mortal-frame against my transparent, wispy form. I feel heat radiating from him. His heart pounds with a tremendous force in his chest. Blood circulates around and around in his body. He feels things. He feels me.  
  
  
  
And, somehow, I can feel him too.  
  
  
  
His hands caress my back. It sends shivers up my spine. A very feeling not felt in years. Love is rushing towards me every time he touches me. I feel his love entering and circulating within my body. I feel alive.  
  
  
  
His lips find mine, at last, and I am in seventh-heaven.   
  
  
  
I don't need know how he can see me or touch me. How he knows I'm here. I don't need to know what happens next. I am in the arms of my husband, my lover, my best friend.   
  
  
  
And that is all I need know.  
  
********************************************* 


End file.
